


Far Too Many Notes For My Taste

by PeppermintIndulgence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fake Character Death, First Meetings, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppermintIndulgence/pseuds/PeppermintIndulgence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Sam was patient, but, once the mail for G Milton started flooding in, it was no surprise that he got frustrated.</p><p>Originally posted here: http://peppermintindulgence.tumblr.com/post/85995087415/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Too Many Notes For My Taste

Sam was patient at first. There’d been a spam letter for Gabriel Milton about some insurance scam, followed by one for a cable service. He’d merely put it off as him having just moved in and nobody getting the memo that this guy had moved out, tossing the letters into the trash without a thought. He had more important things to worry about.

But then more started coming in.

 

For the most part, it was still spam, but there was also a copy of Fine Cooking magazine mixed in, as well as a bill. Why the hell was he still getting bills in Gabriel’s name? With a huff, he sent the magazine back with a note saying that it was the wrong address, but he paid the bill anyway despite the confusion. Tabloids came every day, filling his mailbox and frustrating him beyond belief, and he finally had to call and argue for a damn hour in order to finally unsubscribe.

When he finally started getting personal letters to this Milton guy, he knew something had to be up. Grabbing his computer, he tried to look up the guy, but he got his own address, but there was a photo: a blonde with a goofy, toothless smile that crinkled his golden eyes. He decided to search that instead, and a new name and address came up: a mister Loki Laufeyson. Scribbling down the address, he gathered up all the mail that wasn’t his and went to his car, heading straight for him.

The house was a three hour drive away and a little less elegant than his own, but when the door was opened he saw that the inside said otherwise. “What is it, moose?” he blonde asked, giving the smirk he’d seen in the photo.

"I believe these are yours." Sam held out the bag, but Loki— no, Gabriel— simply took one look at it and nudged it away. His next words frustrated Sam more than anything:

"Keep it. Not my problem anymore."

Flashing his signature bitchface, Sam upended the bag over Gabriel, and the blonde’s expression went to a hard neutral as newspapers, magazines and letters scattered around him. “I’m not taking these back with me. Now make a call and have them stop sending these to my house.”

"Sucks to be you, Bullwinkle, because I can’t."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because they’ll find me."

Okay, so that intrigued Sam. What was he dealing with here, some sort of crazed convict or drug dealer on the run? If that was the case though, why was he getting so many personal letters? The names were usually Milton, as well as the occasional Novak and D’Angelo… “Who are you hiding from?”

"Doesn’t matter," Gabriel responded. "Just write back everyone and tell them I’m dead and gone. Hit by a car. Mutilated by a serial killer. Had an anvil dropped on my noggin. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m dead."

"I’m not about to lie for a stranger!"

"It’s your only option, unless you want those to keep coming, and coming, and coming."

Sam huffed a sigh. “Fine. But you owe me.”

"Gladly," the blonde said, eyes crinkling.


End file.
